At the End of My Way
I sat with my stuff in the middle of the day.
One car after another slowed down to look.
But only two stopped, and only one came closer.
He saw my things were not trash, the other
Didn't have enough cash to buy what I wouldn't sell.
Under the hot, speckled sky with white clouds moving
Slowly and forming shapes above the horizon where
Above, behind Heaven's gate the doors swing open.
As on Earth, another one opens and somewhere in
The distance, children play. But today, one little boy
Grinned a toothless grin and his dad were alone.
Not speaking my language, we communicated for the
Boy's sake, who needed clothes and a bed to sleep on.
Thursday, he will pay me whatever he can, for on this
Sunday he could not and I could not help but help him,
Whether or not he comes back. Dogs bark, birds sing
And I hear many motors humming. One man wanted
My car, which I wouldn't sell. He left me a note. I also
Gave the man a vacuum and never saw him again.
Copyright © June Ellen Smith | Year Posted 2010
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